Two Things

The sky is on fire

My confession is of a pyre.

A mound of compost left to waste

In my grievances, I will make haste

If you were to read through this confession in sun or snow

There are only two things you need to know.

The first is that I have broken like the dawn

Treating myself as if I were a pawn

Hoping that my sacrifice has been seen

In order to please a faux queen

The second is that I have just learned it at the time

Sacrifice couldn't stop those who had to die is that why

In this confessional I bleed my words without a lie

The truth has spilled in these two things

As the words I have written follow me in rings.